


Normal

by Fairi_Channie



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: (only mentioned), (the trans character part is super minor tho), Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Domestic Violence, Drabble, Family, Fluff, Gay Male Character, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Michael is a child, Minor Character Death, Past Domestic Violence, Single Parents, Single dad!Ryan, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Male Character, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairi_Channie/pseuds/Fairi_Channie
Summary: .normaladj.conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this for a week and it's very important to me now. 
> 
> But, what started as a mini vent about my life spiraled into something much bigger and I'm like ???ok
> 
> Warning though, I wrote the whole thing on my phone and my auto-correct is really weird so if there's any glaring errors please tell me.

_Ray wasn't normal._

* * *

Age 5.

Ray began learning this in Pre-K.

It wasn't  _normal_ to only have a mama, he learned that when a classmate, a loud boy named Aaron, asked about Ray's daddy because  _"my daddy is the bestest! Is your daddy the bestest too, Ray?"_

Young Ray was confused but answered,  _"I don't have a daddy, but my mama is the bestest mama ever!"_ only to avoid the other child's eyes as Aaron tilted his head, unable to comprehend how somebody could not have a daddy.

Ray looked down at his paper,  _Ray Jr.,_ scribbled in messy green crayon.

* * *

Age 6.

Later, Ray learned it wasn't _normal_ to speak a little English. All his classmates spoke English and were very comfortable doing so, but Ray would often find himself starting to speak in Spanish.

He didn't mean to, sometimes it was just hard to remember the right words in English so he would say it in Spanish. 

Whenever Ray did this though, his teacher would scold him and his classmates would ask him to talk _normally_ and Ray slowly learned to hate his native tongue.

It wasn't _normal_. 

* * *

Age 7.

Ray was a very smart boy.

His mama told him so all the time! He would show off his schoolwork and his mama would smile and say, voice soft:  _"mi rayo de sol, eres tan inteligente niño."_ and Ray would smile brightly, letting the feeling of pride wash over him.

Ray was a very smart boy, and very smart boys pick up on things.

So as his class meet after Christmas Break they spoke excitedly about their presents from Santa- Blaine got an Xbox and Chris got the latest DS.

Ray showed off the used DS he got- he even had a Pokemon game to play! Yet, Chris simply pointed out how much older Ray's DS was and how much better the new ones were. Chris smiled,  _"maybe your mama didn't realize the difference! You should ask her about it!"_

When his mama came home though, she told him how smart he was to make a good grade on his spelling test, smiling brightly as she gave him a candy bar from her purse in reward. As he bit into the gooey chocolate, he realised something:

Ray was a very smart boy, and he knows it's not  _normal_ to only have a few toys, his classmates had all kinds of toys. But, Ray was okay, he had his mama and, for the moment, that's all that mattered.

* * *

Age 10.

Ray cried the first week without his mama. Living with Nana seemed fun at first, but he forgot that meant there wasn't his mama there to sing to him as he fell asleep, tucking him in with a kiss on the hair and a whisper of,  _"Buenas noches mi rayo de sol."_ Nor was his mama there to wake him up for school with soft whispers and breakfast. His Nana was good though, she would read a story at night and kiss his hair; his Nana woke him up with the smell of pancakes and loud words of encouragement. 

It was a hard adjustment, but he still saw his mama on weekends, Ray would stay in whatever dirty motel his mom was in that week. He never did mind though, because his mama loved him and she was simply trying to _"get back on her feet"-_ whatever that meant.

So, that's what he told his class the first day of fifth grade. It made sense, the class was supposed to draw their family then tell the class who their family was. Ray smiled to himself, drawing his own small body between his Nana and his Mama. The eager boy volunteered to go first, standing by his new desk as his spoke:

"This is me, Ray Narvaez Jr., and this is my Nana! I live with her while my mama 'gets back on her feet', and this is Mama! I stay with her on weekends and love her a lot!" 

His teacher smiled, "Very good Ray!" but his class was snickering and he sat in his chair, embarrassed. As he listened to the rest of the class, he frowned.

Once again, his family wasn't  _normal._

* * *

Age 12.

When Ray entered middle school he joined band. 

He loved band, he threw himself into playing, working hard to not only be the best clarinet player in his school but also to buy his own. Ray used his teacher's old clarinet, but that was okay, he loved the shabby instrument (named "Daniel" when he learned the instrument was still nameless). 

Soon, Ray was the best clarinet player in class and would spend hours upon hours every week just practicing. When he wasn't practicing he was earning money to buy his own. He would do chores for neighbors, whether it be mowing lawns, pulling weeds, walking dogs, or watching children. All the earnings went into a jar on his nightstand aptly labelled  _"Ray's clarinet fund!!!!"_

Finally, his work was worth it when, 3 years later, between grades 8 and 9, he counted $1,567 over a series of 5 jars and he and his mama went to the music store and Ray bought the prettiest student clarinet he could find. The clarinet was nothing special, the same black plastic as the clarinet he used before, yet it was brand new and  _his._

Ray walked into his first marching band practice with the new clarinet, watching as his peers complained of their instruments, instruments their parents bought for them. And Ray was once again hit with the feeling of dread that  _not normal_ brought, but this was different. This time it was mixed with something else

_Pride._

* * *

Age 15.

Ray falls in and out of love within the same year, a strangely adult feeling and experience he barely comprehends.

He dates a girl who goes by the name Sarah, but within a few months  _Sarah is not a girl,_ and soon after that Ray ends up with a boyfriend named Eric and he's strangely okay with it. 

Yet, good things never seem to last when you're a teenager and the couple slowly drifted apart. There's no fight, no drama, no yells of _"I hate you!"_ at 3am. 

They slowly stopped talking after school, stopped giving lingering kisses and touches before fourth period, Eric stopped sitting with Ray at lunch. Ray, he's, well, he's okay. 

It hurt a little, but Ray knows they weren't meant for each other. But the more alarming question of his sexuality presents itself over the entire ordeal.

It wasn't until many years of self-hate later that he learned the word  _bisexual_

* * *

Age 17.

In his junior year Ray's world came crashing down around him.

His mama told him as he was working on his homework, but he never finished the assignment. The next week is a blur but Ray remembers bits and pieces.

He remembers sitting in the hospital room, holding his Nana's hand as she faded in and out of sleep. He remembers when her heart monitor let out a long beep and he felt his own heart stop as the doctors rushed him and his mama out of the room. He remembers the tears as the doctors told them:  _"there's nothing we could have done"._

Ray remembers renting a suit for the funeral, but barely remembers the event itself. The speeches were a blur, the consoling words from family and friends forgotten as soon as they were said.

Of that whole week, he distinctly remembers the flowers he threw on her coffin. A dozen red roses, just like the ones he helped her grow the year he lived with her. He found himself, in midst of the gloom of grieving, fondly remembering afternoons in her gardens. As Ray would water the flowers she would explain what they meant. Ray's favorite were always the rose bushes, they could mean so many different things.

So, Ray softly tossed the roses into the hole. A personal symbol of spring afternoons and maternal love. 

* * *

Age 18.

When Ray moves out he feels a bit more  _normal_ when he's barely getting by- he's a college student in a shitty apartment, maintaining said apartment purely on his paycheck from Game Stop.

When he was young and scraping by in a similar way, it was different because his mama was supposed to make enough both of them and for the DS he found so important or the candy bars he thought he would just die without.

But he doesn't blame his mama because she always thought of him first, always put herself last. 

Regardless, Ray was strangely okay. He tended to have to give up things to pay his rent and he couldn't have the name brand foods he wanted.

So, as he munched on off-brand oreos and played on the same original DS that he's surprised lasted him so long he can't help but to feel _content_.

* * *

Age 20.

Two years later, Ray felt the dust had finally settled. His apartment was a little less shitty, and he could afford the name brand snacks. He still had a large give and take when it came to the end of the month, but, overall the dust had settled. 

Until _he_ came around. His name was James Ryan Haywood-  _"please, call me Ryan"_ \- and he was divorced (with an ex- _husband_ ), father of a little boy and absolutely  _charming._

Ryan would walk in everyday after dropping his son off at school and order a vanilla latte with an extra expresso shot and one cookie. Ray could do this order with his eyes closed, he did it so often. As Ray made the order they would talk, Ryan would tell of his ex, his son, his job, whatever was immediate and Ray would fondly talk of his past and his mama and complain about college before sliding the coffee over to the man who would flash a smile that made Ray swoon and ask, _"How much would this be?"_ as if it wasn't $7.23 exactly everyday.

The thing was, Ray never really processed that Ryan was a dad. Not until he met the kid anyway.

Ray met the bundle of energy when Ryan came trailing in a little later than normal, with a little boy with rust colored curls who looked at Ryan like he held the stars in his palms.

As he did most days, Ray starting to work in autopilot: the usual, but add a small hot chocolate, turn now, keep up conversation, _oh damn Ryan and his kid are cute,_ don’t spill, put the lid on, grab the cookies, wrap them in plastic, put the cups in front of Ryan.

 _Smile;_ that one was never hard when Ryan was around.

Ray doesn’t remember much of what they talked about, he remembers Michael yelling that he was six years and three months and in Kindergarten and his teacher, Mrs. Ramsey was the _coolest teacher ever, even if she seemed kinda scary at first._ He remembered Michael rambling about his friend, a little British boy named Gavin. As he was wrapping the cookies, two chocolate chip, he remembered the reason Michael came to the little cafe with Ryan. The six year old had a check up at the pediatrics. 

Ray, once establishing that nobody was in need of help, grabbed a cookie, slipping from behind the counter and kneeled in front of the boy:

"You're a very brave boy right? So I think you should get this cookie for free. Okay?" It was simple, but the boy nodded fiercely and took the treat, a newfound detirmination in his eyes. Ray decided to still add the second cookie in their order without charge- a little extra wouldn't hurt.

When Ray unbent his knees, Ryan was watching him with a strange fondness in his eyes and Ray _almost_ blushed.

Two days later, Ray had a date.

* * *

 Age 23.

Ray never claimed he and Ryan had the perfect relationship, no, they had their fair share of fights. Fights that left Ray questioning if it was worth the trouble and close to packing a bag- then Ryan would come to him with soft _"I'm sorry"_ s and Michael would hug him and say that _"Daddy is just a big meanie sometimes"_ and Ray would laugh before they would kiss and make up.

They weren't perfect, but they _worked_.

But just working doesn't mean it was easy; no, Ryan's ex-husband had left the family in pieces that they held together desperately and Ray had to hold them both up, help them both slowly heal.

Ray was glad he never met Ryan's ex-husband. Michael would sit and tell him _"Nick was really naughty sometimes! He would yell when he got mad and daddy would get really sad. I didn't like seeing daddy sad... But you make him really happy so you can't be naughty, okay?"_ And Ray would nod seriously, taking the small hand in his own to unfurl the small fist that formed because Michael got his anger issues from his second father, the one Michael never saw as a father, and Ray knew it scared Ryan sometimes. It scared Ryan that his baby could grow up to be the monster that Ryan worked so hard to keep away. 

Ryan would flinch when characters in movies raised their voices, and Ray would ever so slightly tighten his hold around the man. And sometimes Ryan had nightmares, nightmares that left the man in a panicked state of quick breaths and jumbled thoughts and Ray would whisper loving words of encouragement as the man calmed. Yet it wasn't until sometime after their first anniversary that, as they lay in bed, Ryan whispered _"he used to hit me"_ and Ray stroked his cheeks to wipe away tears, whispering _"I'm glad you told me"._

So Ray treated father and son with care, he treaded lightly, because sometimes wounds take more than three years to heal and sometimes you can't fix tears in people's hearts but you can patch them as best you can and try to hold them together.

It wasn't until late in their third year together that Ray truly felt the wounds begin to heal and the patches begin to stick.

Michael was coming home from school- _wow, was he really in second grade?_ \- with his backpack bouncing against his back. This time it wasn't from the excited running to meet Ray. No, Micheal shuffled his feet, his tear streaked face looking anywhere but Ray's eyes. 

Ray felt his anger boil beneath his skin: _who made my son cry?_ And before he could process the phrase _my son_ , he was kneeling in front of the boy, wishing that he could still scoop the boy into his arms like he used to. 

"Mikey, honey, what's wrong?" There was new batch of tears at that, heaving sobs that left Michael breathless and Ray had suspected that Michael had been holding them in all day. So, Ray comforted him- _breathe with me, good job baby, it's okay just take deep breaths_. And Ray knew they were in the middle of their neighborhood, and the catty moms would be talking about it tomorrow but that didn't matter.

Michael wasn't quite breathing right, a little too fast, a little too deep, but the boy was determined to tell Ray the problem now.

"The- the other boys- they said that you- you and daddy weren't normal- that I can't have two daddies! But- But I told them they were stupid- and walked away- just like you always say too." 

Ray cooed softly, "I'm so proud you walked away from them baby, I know it must have been hard for you to do." 

Unfurling Michael's fists, something Ray found helped ease the child's anger, Ray pondered what to do about the overall situation. "Why don't we go home and I'll call daddy and the three of us will talk about it all together, hm?" 

Michael watched the man he grew to know as a second father become tense and his eyes grow weepy, so the boy nodded, rust curls bouncing. He may only be nine years old, but he knew that Ray would feel better with daddy there, so Michael wanted daddy to be there.

Ryan came home from work immediately. 

They sat on the couch as a family, Ray and Ryan explaining softly what _gay_  and _bisexual_  meant and that it was completely _normal_ and it was completely _okay_ for Michael to be adopted and for his daddy to have a boyfriend and Michael simply nodded, listening fully.

When Michael finally spoke up, Ray almost cried. It was simple really:  _"Can Ray be my daddy too?"_

* * *

_Ray wasn't normal._

_But Ray was happy._

**Author's Note:**

> Now a part of an upcoming series!! 
> 
> Cross posted on Wattpad!!!


End file.
